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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794498">you mocha me crazy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/middledumpling/pseuds/middledumpling'>middledumpling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Starbucks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:49:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/middledumpling/pseuds/middledumpling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a perpetually tired Starbucks barista. Francis is a businessman who just moved into the area. </p><p>When the two of them meet, they instantly get off on the wrong foot when Arthur begins deliberately misspelling Francis’ name.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>England/France (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you mocha me crazy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur was <em>this close</em> to losing his shit.</p><p>"Ma'am," Arthur gritted out between thinly smiling lips. "This is Starbucks, not Tim Hortons. We don't sell iced capps."</p><p>"But why not?" the customer, a lady in her mid-forties asked, holding a manicured hand to her chest in shock.</p><p>"Please, ma'am, we don't sell that item. You'll have to go to the Tim Hortons around the block."</p><p>She huffed, throwing her phone into her bag and storming off. Just before she left the store, she called out, "I'm calling the manager about this! And see if I ever come back again!"</p><p>The next customer shuffled up to him with a sympathetic wince, and Arthur let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. Arthur took her order, a thankfully simple hazelnut latte.</p><p>"Next please!" he called. He <em>really</em> fucking hated his job.</p><p>The next customer waltzed up to the counter, talking rapidly in French on his phone all the while. His hair was long and silky smooth, tied back with a simple elastic, and he had the beginning of a beard growing on his face. His expression was pure condescending arrogance, as if he looked good and he knew it. Coolly, the customer scanned the menu.</p><p>Arthur’s finger tapped impatiently on the countertop, his nerves already frayed from the previous customers. Who walked into Starbucks not knowing the menu? And holding up the line with only one cashier too?</p><p>Just as Arthur was about to <em>politely</em> ask him to head to the back of the line if he wasn't ready to order, the customer ended his call with a sing song<em> au revoir.</em></p><p>"I'll take a venti caramel macchiato,” he said.</p><p>Arthur felt his temper flare up. He had an almost irresistible urge to shake the man by the shoulders. Also, he was French. All of a sudden, he had a better idea.</p><p>"What's your name, sir?" Arthur asked, sugar sweet and with a sudden, completely natural smile on his face.</p><p>"Francis," the customer said. Arthur almost scoffed. What a French name. He would fix that.</p><p>Arthur reached over to the venti cups, and snatched up the sharpie from the counter. <em>Franchise</em> he wrote in his neat handwriting. Then, he passed it over to Elizaveta, his manager.</p><p>"Your order will be ready over there," he said. Francis swiped his card and then strode over to the pick-up counter.</p><p>It was stupid. It was childish. But—“Franchise? Is there a Franchise here?” Elizaveta’s voice rang out clearly throughout the store. She looked puzzled.</p><p>Arthur watched as some customers exchanged bemused glances and smiled in satisfaction.</p><p>“Franchise?” A pause. “Who ordered a venti caramel macchiato?”</p><p>Arthur stopped paying attention at that point, but a smug smile stayed on his face for the rest of the day.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The next time he came, Arthur recognized him instantly. There were only so many tall, handsome French people in the area.</p><p>It'd be okay to mess with him a little more… right? It was harmless fun after all. And, he was French.</p><p>"Name?" Arthur asked, even though he quite clearly remembered.</p><p>"Francis," was the reply. The man regarded him curiously over the countertop and his eyes flickered down to Arthur’s nametag. Arthur could only do this so many more times until he was found out, but he might as well enjoy it while he could.</p><p>Grabbing the cup, he only needed to think for a moment before putting <em>Mantis</em>. Sliding it to Alfred, a part-timer in high school, he rang in the order and moved to the next customer.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Francis started coming more often.</p><p>It was enough that Arthur was seeing him at least once a week. Arthur wondered if he recently moved into the area, or started working nearby, but he wasn't about to <em>ask</em> the man himself, God forbid.</p><p>“Frog? I have a grande espresso for Frog!”</p><p>The next thing Arthur knew, there was a gaze burning a hole into his skull. Maybe he had gone a little too far this time.</p><p>"Excuse me," Francis called, striding back to the cashier section. He nudged aside the customer Arthur had been serving, to the customer’s indignant cry. "I believe I clearly said my name is Francis. Is it just you, or are all Starbucks workers inept?"</p><p>Arthur pulled his most innocent and shocked face—it was the one that had gotten him out of trouble when he was younger by pushing the blame onto his older brothers.</p><p>"I'm sorry, sir," he said apologetically. "It's very crowded and noisy here. I must have heard wrong."</p><p>Francis pursed his lips. “You’re lying, and I don’t believe you.” But he grabbed his drink and left.</p><p>Arthur grinned.</p><p>Once the lunch hour rush had slowed down to a trickle, Elizaveta wiped her hands off on a towel and came to stand beside him.</p><p>"Do you know that man?" she asked curiously.</p><p>“Which man?” Arthur asked.</p><p>“Don't play stupid with me,” Elizaveta said, crossing her arms. “Tall, blond, and sexy? The one whose name you keep getting wrong.”</p><p>"...no," Arthur conceded. “And don't call him sexy. He's not. His face annoys me. "</p><p>"Oh!" she said, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Could this be a crush? Like when little boys bully school girls?”</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Arthur said, horrified at the thought.</p><p>“Well,” Elizaveta said, dragging the word out. “Why not though? He’s so handsome, and it's been so long since you've been in a relationship. And don't you have a thing for blonds?”</p><p>“First of all, you said the exact same thing when Alfred started working here. And Matthew. Second of all, <em>I don’t like him</em>.”</p><p>“Don't you want to know more about him though?” she said, ignoring him outright. “Like what he does?”</p><p>It was low hanging fruit and he <em>definitely</em> shouldn’t take the bait. “What does he do?” he asked, reluctantly curious. Dammit.</p><p>Elizaveta grinned at him, and he had the distinct feeling he had fallen into a trap.</p><p>“Well, he's come in before when Mattie and I were working. You know Mattie’s from Québéc right?”</p><p>“I know. And?”</p><p>“Well, he speaks French fluently, so him and your darling customer hit it off right away. Anyways, Mattie told me that he’s an entrepreneur and he moved into an office in the area recently.”</p><p>Elizaveta continued chattering but Arthur had stopped listening at that point.</p><p>Funny, Arthur had never considered Francis coming to their Starbucks when he wasn't working, let alone getting alone with his other coworkers. Logically it made sense—Arthur didn't even work all that often. Still, it left a funny feeling in his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>When Arthur’s alarm rang at 4:30 am, he nearly hurled his phone into the wall. He had forgotten how much he hated morning shifts. Not only did he have to get up at an ungodly hour in the morning, it was also the shift where all the sleep-deprived corporate people and dead-eyed college students shuffled into their esteemed establishment for their first caffeine fix of the day. It was their busiest shift, aside from the after school rush.</p><p>He didn’t normally get assigned morning shifts, but he had made the mistake of telling Elizaveta he had the morning off that week and she had pounced on the information faster than a lion spotting prey.</p><p>At 5am, Arthur dragged his sorry ass into work, stifling a yawn. Elizaveta didn’t even look sympathetic, like the cold-hearted bitch she was.</p><p>“You take drinks Arthur,” Elizaveta said as they finished their pre-opening tasks. “I’m faster when it comes to dealing with customers.”</p><p>He nodded, tying his apron strings as tightly as they could go. He knew from experience that wouldn't have time to tie them again for the next good while.</p><p>6 am hit and the store officially opened. Arthur’s mind turned on autopilot. His hands went automatically through the motions, sending out drink after drink after drink. His voice was hoarse from calling out names to the room. It was also hot—overbearingly so. Arthur yanked down his collar in a small attempt to cool off, but it didn't help at all.</p><p>"Francine?" he yelled out. "Is there a Francine who ordered a venti americano?"</p><p>“It's<em> Francis</em>, for God's sake!" came a grumbling voice, closer than he expected. Arthur glanced down at the drink in confusion, then looked back up at a familiar visage. He then swivelled to glare at Elizaveta, who simply winked at him.</p><p>"… Right," Arthur said, sliding the drink over. But Francis didn't leave. In fact, he simply leaned against the counter and narrowed his eyes.</p><p>"You're doing this on purpose," he accused. “Spelling my name wrong. What do you have against me?”</p><p>Arthur sputtered, but found he couldn't answer. Instead, he gave him an indignant glare and said, "I wasn't even on the register today!"</p><p>Francis scoffed, seemingly disappointed. "Whatever.”</p><p>"Believe whatever you want, I have work to do."</p><p>Francis just shook his head and left, drink in hand. Arthur was left inexorably frustrated for some reason. The words Francis said echoed nastily in his head.</p><p>
  <em>What do you have against me?</em>
</p><p>It was true that Arthur had probably kept this prank going on longer than he typically would have. Why did he keep doing it? Arthur still didn't have an answer.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Francis didn’t come back for a solid week and a half. Not that he was counting. Not at all. Arthur briefly wondered if Francis was avoiding him, but the thought was so ridiculous that he dismissed it immediately.</p><p>They weren't even friends, let alone acquaintances. Hell, they weren't even on a first name basis considering he butchered Francis’ name at every chance he gets.</p><p>He didn't voice it aloud, but the others had no such inclinations.</p><p>“It's been awhile since Francis has come around,” Matthew commented softly. There was a lag time between customers, leaving only him, Matthew, and Alfred to wipe down counters and sinks for the next few hours or so.</p><p>“Who’s Francis?” Alfred asked.</p><p>“You know… the French guy who comes in a lot?” Matthew then gave Alfred a look that Arthur couldn't quite decipher.</p><p>“OH,” Alfred exclaimed. Loudly.</p><p>Matthew glared daggers at him. Alfred, oblivious, carried on like a train wreck. “You mean the guy Arthur has a thing for?”</p><p>Arthur slammed his hands down on the counter, his face burning red. Stupid pale skin. Stupid English genes. “I don’t! Who’s saying that?!”</p><p>“Mattie,” Alfred said, and Matthew lunged at him with murder in his eyes. “And Elizaveta. We’ve been taking bets in th—mffh!”</p><p>Arthur felt heat crawl down from his face to his neck. “Well, you’re all wrong, and I have no idea why you’d think that!”</p><p>Matthew paused in the middle of strangling Alfred. “Well, you do have… sort of an unhealthy obsession with him.”</p><p>“It’s because I hate him,” Arthur said stoutly.</p><p>“And you’ve been sighing a lot these past couple weeks.”</p><p>“They’re sighs of relief?” Arthur tried, but he knew it’s weak. Matthew and Alfred both gave him extremely judgmental looks.</p><p>Arthur buried his head in his hands. “Oh my goodness,” he said. The realization was like being hit over the head by a brick wall. “I have a thing for Francis.”</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Another painfully slow week passed by and Arthur was starting to fret. “Do you think I was the one who drove him away? Do you think I should apologize to him?”</p><p>The issue was distressingly present at the forefront of his mind. Despite the logical side of his brain telling him that it was rather unlikely that Francis’ recent disappearance was due to his actions, the illogical and emotional side of his brain was slamming on the alarms.</p><p>Kiku, bless his soul, said diplomatically, “I don’t think you were the one who drove him away, but perhaps if you get the chance you should apologize.”</p><p>When Arthur walked into work a week later, the first thing he saw was Francis. He almost dropped his bag in surprise. Two weeks of absence and then suddenly this?</p><p>He also had to deal with his sudden and truly unfortunate realization of feelings for the other man. Damn that Alfred and Matthew. He wasn’t sure what face he should make when faced with Francis at all now. Arthur felt like anything he did would be seen through immediately, and then he would be so embarrassed he’d have to quit his job and never be seen in the area again.</p><p>But Francis hadn't noticed him at all. In fact, he probably wouldn't notice a meteor if it crashed right next to him right now. He had reading glasses perched precariously low on his nose, and several empty cups and papers scattered on the table around him.</p><p>Arthur headed behind the counter and sent a questioning look Elizaveta’s way. She simply shrugged.</p><p>“He's been here for almost five hours now,” she said in a stage whisper. “Hasn't moved for probably the past four.”</p><p>It was disquieting to see Francis so still. When he did move, it was with jerky, anxious movements and furrowed brows. It was as if the pompous, rude, loud man he’d come to know in the last couple months had been replaced by someone else.</p><p>Arthur made a decision. On his next break, he rang up a couple muffins in the register, disregarding the questioning look Elizaveta sent his way. He tucked them safely in a paper bag and headed over to Francis’ table.</p><p>Francis didn't look up.</p><p>Arthur coughed a little, then said, “Frog.”</p><p>Francis looked up blearily, and shook his head as if waking up from a nap. “Oh,” he said. “You. What do you want?”</p><p>Arthur shoved the paper bag into Francis' hands and muttered, “It's on the house. You should eat something.”</p><p>Francis looked stunned. His fingers curled around the bag, but he hummed thoughtfully a moment later. “Are you allowed to do that?”</p><p>Arthur turned bright red. “Just shut up and take it!”</p><p>Francis laughed, but let it go. He waved a hand at the chair. “Sit.”</p><p>Arthur wondered if he'd gone crazy. He pulled out a chair and sat gingerly at the edge. This was—not a situation he thought he'd be in.</p><p>Remembering Kiku’s advice, Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. Francis was staring very intently at him, and that fact alone nearly made him lose his nerve. But if he could attend school without support in a completely different country, then he could own up to his mistakes (and his crush) like a man. So there.</p><p>“I just want to—apologize if there’s been any offence taken on your part due to my actions,” he said stiffly, and oh God, it was going all wrong. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he speaking so formally?</p><p>Arthur tried again. “I—what I mean is—I mean, I noticed you haven’t been coming by recently… and I thought maybe it was because…. of what I did with your name at all. Not that I think everything you do is related to me! Anyways I wanted to say I’m… sorry.”</p><p>English major, his ass. He couldn’t even string together enough words to form a proper sentence. The moment he got his degree he was burning it, countless sleepless nights and mental breakdowns or not.</p><p>None of that mattered though, because Francis was staring at him in surprise, eyes wide enough for Arthur to see the blue of them clearly. Then, he started to laugh. His laugh was deep and throaty, an altogether pleasant rumble in his chest and wow, Arthur really had it bad, didn’t he? He was so dazed that he didn’t even have time to be embarrassed that Francis was probably laughing at him.</p><p>“Look, Arthur,” Francis said once the laughter subsided. He offered him a tired smile. “I can assure you, you haven’t yet managed to drive me away from this store, despite your best efforts. I’ve been away for a couple weeks because me and my team have some major deadlines coming up.”</p><p>Arthur’s chest lightened a little. “Is that what you’re working on right now?” He nodded down at the laptop on the table between them.</p><p>Francis’ gaze dropped back to his laptop screen briefly and he heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately.”</p><p>“What are you doing?” Arthur asked.</p><p>“Editing,” Francis replied, “for my magazine. We still don't have a lot of people on our team so I end up doing a lot of odd jobs.”</p><p>Francis seemed like a completely different person when talking about his fashion magazine. His face completely lit up and he talked with his hands as much as his words. Outwardly, he looked the worst that Arthur had ever seen him. His hair was pulled back in an uneven and messy bun, the eye bags under his eyes were truly horrendous, and he had unshaven stubble on his chin.</p><p>Despite everything, Arthur thought that he was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. He also knew that he was completely and irrevocably screwed.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The next time Francis swung by, there was an odd tension between them at the register.</p><p>As Arthur rang his order through and directed him down to the pick-up counter, he had an internal crisis as he held the sharpie in his hand. After everything that had happened last time, should he be a good sport and finally write Francis’ name correctly? Or would it be better to continue as they had with the incorrectly spelled name?</p><p>After a moment’s hesitation, he wrote out<em> Fromage.</em> That turned out to be the correct choice when, after receiving his drink, Francis merely raised an eyebrow at him and continued on to his table.</p><p>Something changed after that, although if asked, Arthur would be hard pressed to answer. Arthur still refused to spell Francis’ name correctly, but it became more of an inside joke than anything. Rather than the awkward exchange they'd been having at the cashier, it was instead filled with gentle ribbing and updates on their days.</p><p>Arthur also found it much more pleasant to spend his breaks sitting with Francis than in the backroom, or by himself at another table. Francis typically came alone, so there was always an extra chair for him. Arthur would read or do homework or go on his phone and Francis would type away at his laptop.</p><p>“What are you working on?” Arthur asked one day, the curiosity eating away at him.</p><p>Francis simply smiled. “Come around and see.”</p><p>Arthur hesitated briefly before swinging around to Francis’ side of the table. He leaned in to see the screen and tried to ignore how good Francis’ cologne smelled. Dammit. He forced himself to focus on the screen and quietly gasped.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” he said. It was the latest issue of his magazine in all of its glory. Arthur marvelled at the beautiful photos and the elegant design. He briefly scanned the copy to find it just as well-written as the rest of the magazine. “You did an amazing job.”</p><p>When he glanced at Francis to see his reaction, the words died in his throat when he suddenly realized how close they were.</p><p>Francis didn’t seem to notice how Arthur hastily backed away. He also didn’t seem to notice Alfred’s obnoxious sniggering in the background, which was somewhat of a relief. Instead, Francis had a pleased flush on his face and he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear in what seemed like embarrassment.</p><p>“It wasn’t just me. I couldn’t have done this without my team,” he said instead.</p><p>Arthur slid back to his side of the table. “Oh? How big is your team right now?”</p><p>“It’s just me and two of my high school friends right now.”</p><p>Arthur blinked. “That’s quite a small team. It’s amazing you get as much done as you do.”</p><p>Francis hummed. “We’ve got a couple freelancers to fill in the gaps, but I’m hoping to grow our permanent staff in the future.”</p><p>When Francis talked about his business, his entire demeanour seemed to change. His countenance lit up and he seemed happy to go on about even the boring aspects of running a business, like accounting, of all things. Arthur was so distracted he forgot all about checking the time.</p><p>Eventually, Arthur’s gaze slipped to the clock and he quietly cursed under his breath, springing to his feet.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Francis asked, brow furrowed in worry. Arthur had cut him off mid-sentence.</p><p>“I’m late for work,” he muttered. “Thanks for calling me in, asshole!”</p><p>The last part was hollered over at Alfred, who simply stared at him in wide-eyed innocence. “Well, you looked like you were having so much fun over there,” he said. “I’d hate to interrupt.”</p><p>Arthur grumbled and began gathering his trash from the table.</p><p>“Have fun at work, <em>mon petit lapin</em>,” Francis said.</p><p>Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “What did you just call me?”</p><p>Francis smirked up at him. “It’s a nickname I came up for you. If you’re going to insist on calling me the wrong name—well, I figured I would just return the favour.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Arthur muttered, and turned away quickly to hide how pink he had gotten.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Francis began staying at the store for longer. When prompted, he claimed the atmosphere was particularly conducive to his work.</p><p>Arthur shrugged and let him be.</p><p>“You should invite him to our holiday party,” Elizaveta suggested as they watched him work from the counter. It was a slow day.</p><p>“Oh God, no,” was Arthur’s first response.</p><p>Elizaveta pouted. “Why not? Don’t you want to spend more time with him? You could even confess through Secret Santa if you want! I’ll rig the system for you!”</p><p>Elizaveta had put a concerning amount of thought into this, clearly.</p><p>“Don’t even fucking think of it, Liz,” Arthur hisses.</p><p>She glanced over his shoulder, then waved. “Oh, hey Francis. We’re having a Christmas party in December. Wanna come?”</p><p>“Are you allowed to invite a non-staff member?” Francis asked, eyebrows raised.</p><p>Elizaveta laughed heartily. “I’m the manager. I can do whatever I want.”</p><p>Francis smiled, looking strangely bashful. His gaze flitted briefly to Arthur before looking back at Elizaveta. “Well, if you’ll have me, I’d love to come.”</p><p>“Great!” Elizaveta cheered. “We’ll be doing Secret Santa. Give me your number so I can text you your person later.”</p><p>When Francis left, Arthur sent Elizaveta a murderous glare. She simply smirked at him and waved the piece of paper with his number on it in his face.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Elizaveta’s head popped out of the break room and she called out to him just as he was about to exit the building. “Arthur, wait!”</p><p>Arthur paused, glancing down at the drink in her hand. “Yes?”</p><p>“You’re headed to class right?”</p><p>Arthur blinked slowly. “Yes, what’s up?”</p><p>“So Francis called the store and asked if we do delivery. Normally, I would turn him down, but his building is actually on the way to your university. And since Francis isn’t just any customer, do you think you can drop it off for him?”</p><p>Arthur stared at Elizaveta. Should he do it? He was well within his right to refuse. He had already clocked out of work, and even if it was on the way, it was still a detour from his regular path to school. But he hadn’t seen Francis in a couple days and part of him was curious about what he looked like out of the cozy confines of their little store.</p><p>“... Sure,” he said eventually.</p><p>Elizaveta smiled knowingly at him. “I’ll put you in for another hour in compensation. Now shoo!”</p><p>The building Francis worked in really was on the way to school. In fact, it was within a ten minute walk from the main campus. Arthur was stunned at how close they were. He firmly pushed aside any budding thoughts about how easy it would be to drop by before or after school and see Francis. He was actually surprised they haven’t run into each other yet outside of Starbucks.</p><p>He stepped into the air conditioned building and made his way to the second floor. From there, he followed a small sign that led him down a short hallway and cautiously peered into a small office.</p><p>It was fairly empty. There weren’t a lot of people around either. Just as Arthur was deciding whether to dump the coffee on the nearest desk and go, a man appeared from behind him.</p><p>“Hi!” he said, a Spanish accent clear in his voice. He was all smiles and looked friendly. “Can I help you?”</p><p>“I was looking for Francis?” Arthur said, holding up the rapidly cooling coffee. “I’m here to give him coffee.”</p><p>“Coffee?” The man looked puzzled. “But he already has—“</p><p>“Arthur!” a much more familiar voice called out. A familiar head of blond hair popped out of an office and Francis smiled at him. “Over here!”</p><p>Arthur thanked the other guys and hurried over. Francis’ office was neat and organized, which was what he had expected from the guy. His desk was clear except for a couple of scattered pens and a mug of—was that coffee?</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Francis asked quizzically.</p><p>Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t you call in and ask for coffee?” he asked.</p><p>“I called the store this morning to say I wouldn’t be coming in today, not that I wanted coffee,” Francis said, puzzled.</p><p>They both glanced down to the coffee in his hands and Arthur started plotting ways to murder Elizaveta in his mind. “Oh… well, just take it,” he said, thrusting the cup in Francis’ direction. “I don’t need it anyways.”</p><p>Their fingers brushed in the exchange.</p><p>Francis took a sip and sighed in relief. “Thanks. What are you up to after this?” His tone was casual but Arthur’s heart picked up at them anyways.</p><p>“I’ve got class in a bit,” Arthur said nonchalantly. Stupid class.</p><p>Francis’ face fell and Arthur wondered what that meant. “That’s a shame. If you had more time I’d give you a quick tour.”</p><p>Arthur gave him a tentative smile. “That’s ok, just give me a tour next time.”</p><p>When Arthur realized what he'd just said he resisted the urge to slap his forehead. Why was he implying he’d be back again for a non-work related business?</p><p>But Francis simply beamed at him and said, “I’d like that.”</p><p>Francis then stood and began gathering his things while Arthur watched him in confused amusement.</p><p>“I’ll walk you to class,” Francis said, shrugging on a spotless white pea coat and brown scarf and looking absolutely breathtaking. “I need to take a break anyways, and the weather is nice.”</p><p>Arthur simply nodded, not trusting his mouth to not blurt out something stupid. He felt a pleased flush rise to his cheeks at the thought of Francis accompanying him to school. It probably didn’t mean anything… but it was still nice.</p><p>They stepped outside to a perfect winter day. The sun was shining and the sky was blue, but there was a bite to the air that belied the picturesque scene.</p><p>“So,” Arthur said.</p><p>“So,” Francis parroted. He laughed when Arthur glowered at him. “I can’t help myself. You’re so easy to tease.”</p><p>Arthur ignored him. “I noticed that you had your own cup of coffee already at your desk,” he said, raising his eyebrows.</p><p>Arthur figured Francis would rib him about being nosy and snoopy but Francis just blinked several times instead. “Oh, yes, uh…” He stopped and cleared his throat.</p><p>“And when I peeked into your kitchen it seemed like you guys have a pretty good coffee machine,” Arthur mused. “Why do you even come to Starbucks so much anyways? It’s not like you ever get any of the ridiculously sweet or trendy drinks.”</p><p>Francis was silent for a long time. Arthur glanced sidelong at him and wondered if he had said something odd. Finally, Francis took a deep breath and stopped walking just before the entrance to Arthur’s campus, Arthur wasn't expecting it and wound up several steps ahead of him.</p><p>“I go to Starbucks to see you,” Francis said.</p><p>Arthur stared. He tried not to jump to conclusions, because that one statement could mean anything and he didn’t want his heart to end up broken. “What does that mean, exactly?” he hedged instead.</p><p>It was Francis’ turn to stare at him. Then he let out a short laugh. “Jesus,” he said. “How did I fall in love with an idiot?”</p><p>“Is this flirting? Are you flirting with me?” Arthur demanded.</p><p>At that, Francis gave him an extremely dry look. “Have been for the past month, but thanks for noticing.”</p><p>A long silence fell between them as Arthur struggled to catch his breath and gather his words. Eventually, Francis’ face dropped and he lowered his gaze. “I should get back to the office,” he said.</p><p>Arthur’s heart seized in his chest. He couldn’t let this man go, no matter what.</p><p>“Wait!” he called, closing the distance between the two of them in one long stride. “Francis, wait.”</p><p>Francis was avoiding his gaze.</p><p>Fine. Arthur took a deep breath. “When I first met you, I thought you were really arrogant and hated you because you were French.”</p><p>Francis' face closed off even more, if possible. Arthur hurried along.</p><p>“But as I started to get to know you I realized that I judged you way too early. You’re really good at what you do and it’s clear that you really like it and I find it amazing that you have the guts to go after your passion like that. Your stupid jokes always make my day. I always look forward to the days when you come and I’m disappointed on the days you don’t come.”</p><p>All of that came out in a rush. Arthur took a quick breath.</p><p>“What are you saying?” Francis asked softly, eyes now fixed on Arthur’s.</p><p>Arthur smiled up at him, unsure. “What I’m saying is that I really like you too. I like your stupid face so much and I’d really like to go out with you sometime.”</p><p>Francis smiled hesitantly. “How does coffee sound?” he said and he was definitely teasing Arthur now.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Arthur said scowling. “Maybe I’ll take it all back.”</p><p>Francis laughed and reached out to cup Arthur’s cold cheeks in his hands. Arthur pressed into the warmth of them.</p><p>“Can I kiss you?” Francis asked in a low voice.</p><p>Arthur’s entire body went hot. “Yes,” he whispered.</p><p>When their lips met, it was a revelation. Arthur didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk for any passerby to see. His world narrowed down to Francis’ mouth locked against his and the feeling of their bodies pressed tightly against each other.</p><p>When Arthur backed up to take a breath, Francis chased him with a whine, crushing their lips back together again. Arthur savoured the feeling for a few more seconds before stepping back.</p><p>“Francis—Francis, stop,” he said, utterly breathless and delighted at it.</p><p>Francis<em> pouted</em>. It shouldn’t look as adorable on a grown man as it did. “What?”</p><p>“I’ve got class in five minutes and you have to get back to work,” Arthur reminded him.</p><p>Francis stood still, seemingly fighting against himself for a moment. Then his shoulders slumped and he sighed. “You’re right.” Even as he said it though, his hold around Arthur’s face tightened even further.</p><p>“Francis,” Arthur warned, despite the fact that he hadn’t let go yet either.</p><p>“You’re heartless,” Francis grumbled.</p><p>“It’s not my fault you chose a horrible time to confess to me,” Arthur said, smiling so hard it hurt. He pecks Francis on the lips again before breaking their embrace and running to class, ignoring Francis’ indignant shouting behind him.</p><p>Ten minutes into class, he typed in the nine digits that Elizaveta had given him onto his phone and sent Francis a quick message.</p><p>
  <em>Hey. It’s Arthur. I like you a lot. Will you go out with me?</em>
</p><p>The response was immediate.</p><p>
  <em>yes!!! you idiot</em>
</p><p>Arthur smiled like a dumb ass, turned off his phone, and spent the rest of the lecture distracted.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>The annual Starbucks Christmas party and potluck was held at Elizaveta’s house. Francis and Arthur were late because Francis had spent an ungodly amount of time getting ready. Arthur was, unfortunately, used to it already.</p><p>They hurried inside and found that dinner was already well under way. After all the food and drinks and dessert came the activities, and they all brought out their Secret Santa gifts. They started in age order, so Matthew, as the youngest, went first. He proudly presented his gift to Alfred.</p><p>It was a ginormous package. Arthur had seen it sitting under the Christmas tree when they first came in and was wondering who had brought that. Turned out it was a metre-long alien plushie. Alfred’s eyes lit up and he cackled in joy, wrapping it in a giant hug.</p><p>“His name is Tony,” Matthew said beaming.</p><p>“I love him!” Alfred said. Arthur would never have gotten Alfred that gift, but the two were obviously close considering how ridiculously happy Alfred looked.</p><p>Next was Alfred, who presented Elizaveta with a nice set of candles and fragrances. Arthur highly suspected that his mom bought the gift. Elizaveta got Kiku some cooking ware, and Kiku gave Francis a new set of linens.</p><p>That left only him and Matthew left. Francis peered at him and suddenly, unabashedly, grins. He shoved a neatly wrapped present at his face. Arthur took it, noting the hefty weight of the package.</p><p>“I was your secret santa!” Francis announced. He brushed his long hair back behind his ears and the glow of the fireplace turned it a warm gold. Arthur tried not to stare and failed. What could Francis possibly have gotten him for a present?</p><p>“... thank you,” Arthur said, somewhat warily. He took it and carefully unwrapped the gift to save the paper for later, despite everyone’s groans that he was taking too long and <em>would you please get to it already!</em></p><p>Out of the box came a ceramic mug, a beautiful thing of deep emerald green. It sat on a small container of his favourite tea, correct brand and all. The two combined definitely went over the money limit, but Arthur pursued his lips and remained silent. He tells himself that the tight feeling in his chest was indignation, not happiness, even though the corners of his lips are somehow lifting on their own.</p><p>“Thank you, frog,” he said, glancing up to see Francis still watching him. “I’ll use this at home.”</p><p>“You should turn the mug over,” Francis said, and there’s laughter in his voice.</p><p>Curious, Arthur flipped the mug over. Upon seeing the lettering on the side, he burst into laughter.</p><p>“What?” Alfred asked, leaning closer. “What is it?”</p><p>In gold lettering on the side, Francis had thoughtfully put his name. <em>Ahrthur</em>, it said. </p><p>“I suppose I had this one coming, didn’t I?” he said.</p><p>Francis just grinned back at him.</p><p>Arthur gave the final gift to Matthew, a lovely red hand knitted beanie, and the group moved onto other things, like board games and drinks and dancing. And when Francis reached over and twined their fingers together, Arthur didn't let go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was supposed to be a Christmas gift for my friend Joy. Thank you for waiting three years for this!! I've also planned out an amecan side story to this but it'll probably take another couple years to be honest lmao</p><p>Chinese translation available <a href="http://chocolatewafer.lofter.com/post/309acbf3_1c8f7ccdd"> here! </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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